The Reunion
by mrsaturtle
Summary: **WIP**When Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger find themselves at the bottom of a bottle of firewhisky and in Neville's old dormitory bed, they have to decide if one night will be enough, or if the Dumbledore's Army Reunion party will be the start of something more precious and magical than either of them could have imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I know, I _know_ another new story, especially when it's been a month since my last update. Truly I'm just following where the muse takes me and trying not to force the writing process. It doesn't help that I'm dealing with the fall-out of my mental illness issues, so I beg your forgiveness. **

**This is a Nevmione story, so I'm sorry to my Dramione fans, I hope you'll give this one a chance. It's going to be delightful and lemony!**

 **As always the only currency I ever ask for is your delightful, loving words in the review section. No review is dumb or tedious, I love them all! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed planning it out!**

 **HUGE thanks to lucefray27 for the discussion and support on this plunny!  
**

 **Also, a friendly reminder if you haven't heard already, I have a facebook group just for my readers where I release some extra info, chapter previews and such. It's /groups/mrsturtlesreaders. Hope to see you there!**

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 _'And in the middle of my chaos, there was you.'  
_

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Hermione took a deep breath before she raised her eyes to the woman standing before her in the mirror. It was the ten-year reunion of Dumbledore's Army, and exactly one year since her divorce had been finalized, and her entire world had shifted. Long gone was the confident, poised and strong witch who had once helped take down the greatest dark wizard of the age. No, the woman before her struggled in vain to conceal the bags under her eyes, forcing herself to eat one whole meal a day, and had shifted most of her workload to being done at home, so as not to awkwardly run into her ex.

It wasn't that her and Ron's marriage had ended badly. No, in fact, the divorce had ended with as little passion as their marriage had possessed. Ron had finally asked for a divorce when they had gone on their seventeenth straight month without sex, and neither one seemed that bothered by the fact.

" _Hermione, could we talk?" Ron asked her, standing in the doorway of her office in their little London flat. His hair was rumpled as though he had just arrived from the floo, but his cheeks were flush with red, and it slowly moved up to his ears—a sign she knew immediately meant he was struggling to keep his courage._

" _Of course, is everything ok?" Hermione countered back, her heart beginning to speed up, knowing somewhere in her gut that something was off._

 _Ron took a seat in one of her brown leather back chairs, as Hermione moved from around her desk to sit in the one across from him. It was a position that both of them were familiar with, he would sit down with a glass of firewhiskey and recount his day with Hermione, proud of his takedown of the remaining Dark Wizards still left in their community, or complain about the difficulties of tracking one. He reached out quickly and grasped both of her hands, his blue eyes finding her brown ones._

" _You know how much I love you, right?" He began, pausing long enough for Hermione to nod, "Than know I do this for you, because you're not happy 'Mione. Yes we're great friends, and that's something I never want to change, but we're not like Harry and Pansy, or Ginny and Blaise, we're miserable in comparison. I mean bloody_ Malfoy _is happier than we are, and I don't want that for you, Hermione. But I also know how stubborn you are, and it's taken me the last six months to realize that even though I wanted to give up, you would never give up unless I forced your hand." Ron paused, removing one of his hands to run it through his shocking red locks, his eyes on the floor now. "Oh Hermione, I don't even know how to say this... I want a divorce. But it's not about me, I haven't found anyone or anything, I just… I love you Hermione, but not the way you deserve to be loved."_

The memory played in her mind as she stared back into the honey brown eyes of the mirror woman, the same eyes that cried tears every night, still unadjusted to sleeping by herself. She would toss and turn all night, before she would finally make it out to the sofa in front of her fire, falling asleep with a book. Hermione had just stopped living that day—the day Ron finally showed just what kind of man he was, the most loyal and loving friend anyone could ever ask for. They were still friends, but it was a different sort of friendship, it was strained to be sure, especially since after just four months apart, Ron began dating.

Hermione had quickly drowned her anger and sadness at the bottom of a firewhiskey bottle, before Ginny, Hannah and her most unlikely friend, Pansy had ripped the bottle away and threw her in a cold shower. Pansy had sat with her under the cold streams of water, holding her up as she cried until the water and tears ran together. She had even kept her arm around Hermione as she vomited all over their feet, purging her system of the profuse amount of firewhiskey that her ex's happiness had incited.

She had tried her best to get some sleep last night; To at least hide the purplish bags under her eyes for the reunion, but no amount of magic and make-up seemed to hide the cracking facade that had become her daily mask. With a quick final decision, she summoned the black, studded leather jacket she had bought on a whim three months ago, and threw it over her arms in an attempt to conceal just how bony she had gotten in the last few months. It wouldn't do if her friends found out that it wasn't just the cold weather that kept her hiding her arms and shoulders. If she thought the cold shower was a wake-up call, it was nothing in comparison to what would happen if they caught the sight of her shoulder blades in this dress.

With one last glance at her reflection, Hermione nodded and walked to the fireplace. She grabbed a small pinch of floo powder before she called out "Headmaster Snape's office". Stepping into the emerald green flames, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stave off the feeling of intense nausea as she spun faster and faster before the fire pushed her out onto the cold stones of the current Headmaster's office.

"Miss Granger, be sure not to track ash across my carpet," Snape said, not even lifting his black eyes from the book he was currently reading.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and with her wand syphoned off the dust and ash that now covered her. "Of course Professor," Hermione replied as she pocketed her wand again. "Thank you again, Professor for allowing me the use of your floo, _again_."

Severus Snape finally raised his coal black eyes to look over the witch before him. With a quiet noise under his breath, he stood from his chair to stand before her. "You're quite welcome, as the Daily Prophet has set up a photo call of sorts outside the entrance of the school, something about wanting to do a "Where are they now?" article, or some other absurdity. And Miss Granger, while I appreciate this will come as quite the insult, it must be said. You look horrible. I thought you had been using the Dreamless Sleep that I gave you."

Hermione groaned as she shook her head, unable to feel insulted by his quick opinion of her condition, "It makes me feel incredibly hazy in the morning when I wake up."

Severus's eyebrows drew together, "Miss Granger, what time do you take the potion, and what time do you wake up?"

She bit down on her lip because she had foolishly hoped that her old Professor wouldn't ask that question. "I uh… well I… I usually take it around two, and I need to be awake by seven."

Severus' lip curled as he gazed down at his old student, "You know, probably better than any of my other students, that Dreamless sleep _requires_ eight _full_ hours. Miss Granger, you're purposefully being neglectful of your condition, and if you do not take steps to fix it, you'll end up quite as miserable as I am."

Hermione swallowed, unable to keep eye contact with the Headmaster. She nodded, before she spoke again. "Is there anything you could give me right now, so my friends don't notice?"

Severus' eyebrow rose. "It is a very important night, and while I should not help you continue to deceive your friends, I will make an exception, for _tonight_ , Miss Granger."

He turned from her, and Hermione could have sworn that when he glanced at Dumbledore's portrait on the wall, it winked at Severus before pretending to doze off again. She couldn't make sense of the interaction, and Severus quickly continued walking over to his private potions cabinet, as if nothing had happened. He removed three potions, pouring them into a large goblet, before turning back to where she remained, in front of the fireplace. "Drink all of this and be on your way, I need to finish my reading."

Pushing her curiosity to the side, Hermione took the goblet willingly and downed the contents, wincing at the combined flavours, before she handed it back to her old professor. "Thank you again, Professor, I'll be back next week for our meeting."

Severus had already begun moving back to his chair, dismissing her with a wave of his hand as she moved to leave the office. The pair didn't say another word as Hermione closed the door behind her and descended down the staircase, incredibly thankful to have the personal connection to her old Professor that was keeping her from whatever photocall the Daily Prophet had set up outside. She couldn't recall feeling more grateful for anything in the last year, then being free from having to queue up for that absurdity.

On her way up to the seventh floor, Hermione stopped in one of the girl's lavatories to check over her reflection one last time. Thankfully instead of the waifish woman that had shown up just fifteen minutes ago, Hermione saw a healthy, glowing version of herself. One that was sure to prevent her friends from worrying, as long as she kept on her jacket.

Hermione took her time walking up the staircases of her old school, relishing the quiet time she had to just admire the castle itself. It wasn't until she reached the bottom of the staircase leading up to the seventh floor that she caught sight of anyone. Still, in the shadows of the nearest torch, a tall figure moved closer to her, heading for the same stairs that she was. Years of war made her grasp her wand within the pocket of her jacket as they continued to move closer to one another. And just as she was about to remove her wand from her pocket, the person shouted at her.

"Hermione, it's you!" A voice that was so familiar called out, and she stopped walking, waiting until the man finally stepped into the light of the nearest torch. She was suddenly looking into the hazel eyes of her very first friend at Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom. He was not the same boy she remembered from their school days, however, nor was he the same man she remembered from the end of the war—he was so much _more_.

She swallowed as an unexpected warmth seared her body as he came within arms reach. He reached out, pulling her into his arms and she was suddenly within the confines of his muscular body, pressed hard against his chest. Hermione tried to gain control of her traitorous body, but was rendered helpless when she took in a deep breath through her nose, inhaling the sexiest masculine scent she'd ever smelled, reminding her fondly of the woods.

"Neville! Oh my gosh, is that really you?" Hermione asked when he had released her, and stood, towering over her.

His mouth lifted into a crooked smile that Hermione found absolutely delightful. "Yeah, just got back from my field mission in Romania."

"Wait, were you the one who made that big capture recently? The one that came out of Romania?" Hermione asked as they began to head up the stairs together.

"Well it wasn't just me, I had an amazing team with me, but yes. We found a stronghold of six wizards, who not only had funded Voldemort but were busy creating more spells. We found Dolohov with them, so Britain can finally right that justice."

Hermione could hear the pride in his voice, and she finally realized the biggest change in him—he was finally sure of himself, instead of being the scared kid she had known for almost seven years. The Neville before her was confident, self-assured and proud, though not in an arrogant way.

Hermione stopped when Neville stilled a few yards away from the open doors of the Room of Requirement, "Hermione, it's so wonderful to see you." He pulled her into another tight hug, causing warmth to flood her system again, before he released her, leaving her confusingly bereft. She couldn't explain why the sudden appearance of her old classmate was causing such bewildering feelings in her body, but whatever it was, it was making her feel more alive than she had in years.

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 _To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thank you so much, everyone, for your kind words last chapter! Seriously yall are the best. For those of you with questions about Hermione & Severus' relationship, all will be answered in due time. Right now we're getting Hermione & Neville reacquainted. **

**Huge love to lucefray27 for her love, unwavering support and edits on this fic.**

 **I do want to be perfectly honest with you my wonderful readers, while the muse for this one is INCREDIBLY strong (said in Yoda voice), last week I almost checked into an inpatient stress centre. I decided on doing outpatient instead, which is 8:00-14:00 M-F, so if I disappear for awhile with updates, please pardon me, as I battle the bitch that is mental illness. You all have been so incredibly supportive though, and I'm so grateful for your kind words.  
**

 **If you love this chapter, and can't wait for chapter three, like me, please let me know!**

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 _I love the way you look at me._  
 _Like you are about to talk to me_  
 _or devour me and I am fine with either._  
 _-N.R. Hart_

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Hermione had somehow managed to greet all of her friends, and still remain close to Neville, all while keeping her jacket on. Many times she thought Neville would venture off on his own, but he remained by her side, idly chatting with someone while she made pleasantries with her friends. As her brown eyes swept the room, she was pleased to see that Ron was still absent, as was his sister and her husband. When Harry and Pansy left to go say hello to George, Hermione turned her attention back to Neville.

Still overwhelmed by the change in his appearance, Hermione tried to control her traitorous thoughts about her old classmate, but she couldn't refuse the thought her brain kept bringing to the forefront; He looked quite fit in a muggle tuxedo. It was only in that moment that it occurred to her, that he was in fact, wearing a muggle outfit, and she was extremely curious as to why.

"Neville, would you like to find a quiet place to talk, I have a feeling this might soon become the dance floor," Hermione said, standing on the tips of her toes so he could hear her. She was almost close enough to brush her lips against his ear, and suddenly the idea of it sent a rush of heat through her core. However, she reigned in her self-control, and instead took a deep breath, his delicious scent washing over her.

Neville nodded, his head lowering toward her, "It seems a couch just appeared, I think the room is in agreement with your idea." He gestured to the back corner of the lavishly decorated Room of Requirement, which had indeed outdone itself for their celebration. It looked much like it had during their many meetings for Dumbledore's Army, with the floor to ceiling walls of mirror, but instead of bookshelves filled with Defense books and large pillows to accommodate jinxes, there were plush couches and chairs surrounding a centre area. Along the east wall, there was a small stage area, where rumour had it, the Weird Sisters would soon play. The house-elves, under the control of Kreacher, had filled the large wooden tables with hor 'd oeuvres and flasks of butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and a few bottles of whisky.

Hermione looked in the direction he was nodding too. Far in the back corner of the Room was a plush burgundy couch that could easily accommodate the two of them. With a nod she set off toward the couch, only to be halted when a pair of old classmates stopped them to talk to Neville. After they had said their hellos, Neville grabbed her hand, and with the confidence of a man on a mission, walked her over the quiet corner. He only let go of her hand when he sat down.

She sat on the opposite corner, turning her body to face him so that she could continue to gaze on the perfect specimen that Neville Longbottom had become. "Thanks for that."

He let out a low chuckle as he turned his body toward her as well. "Not a problem, I find small talk quite tedious and would much rather have a stimulating discussion with one of my oldest friends."

Hermione's cheeks flushed as she spoke. "I'm not sure how _stimulating_ conversation with me will be. I'm somewhat of a drag these days."

With a raise of his eyebrows, Neville casually threw one of his arms onto the back of the sofa. "Now I know better than to believe that _Hermione Granger_ could ever be described as a _drag_. She's the most brilliant witch of the age, so that's impossible."

Hermione failed to conceal the roll of her eyes, or the shrug of her shoulders—it had been a long time since she felt like the most brilliant witch of the age, even if it had once been true. "Not sure how brilliant I am these days, at least as far as the Daily Prophet is concerned."

Neville's forehead creased as he gazed upon Hermione. "I didn't think you cared what that paper ever had to say, let alone its assumptions about you. What happened to the Hermione Granger that once stood up to a Ministry hag, went behind her back to get the _real_ story published?"

Hermione let out a sarcastic chuckle, "Her? Ha, she's been gone a long time." She felt quite out of place, and maybe a bit nervous, without a distraction, and raised her eyes looking around. Spotting one along the far wall, she stood quickly. "I think we need drinks."

Without waiting for a reply, she began to walk to the opposite wall toward the drink table. She was almost halfway across when a bit of red hair entered her field of vision. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening as she took in her ex-husband, with his arm draped around her old roommate, and his current girlfriend, Parvati Patil. As her eyes trailed down Parvati's body, bile rose in the back of her throat, at the unmistakable bump that now dominated the witch's frame. The room was noiseless except for the loud pounding of her heart as her eyes focused in on the pair.

Suddenly, she was being turned around with strong hands wrapped around her upper arms. "I think it's time we go see our old dorm rooms," Neville murmured as he hauled Hermione against his side, arm slung over her shoulder and around her neck. With a quick wave of his wand, he cast a spell and moved toward the doorway. Hermione still couldn't hear anything save the pounding of her pulse, but her eyes took stock of the doorway to the Room of Requirement, and the sudden appearance of a bottle of aged firewhisky as it flew into Neville's hand.

Once in the hallway, Hermione looked up at Neville, with the realisation that tears had formed in her eyes, and were now cascading down her cheeks. As her lips began to move, and nothing but sobs threatened to escape, Neville looked down at her, his hazel eyes soft and kind, "Not here Hermione, not yet."

Hermione turned against him, burying her face in his black jacket. She didn't even have it in her to react when she felt his arm move under her arse and lift her until she was being cradled with her face on his shoulder, like a small child. She couldn't even register his scent, or anything else about her surroundings, as her mind was haunted by the image of Parvati's growing belly. She closed her eyes, trying to gain control over her intense reaction, but her mind flooded with all the internal hatred that she had thrown at herself over the years.

Since she was sixteen she had known that having biological children would be a miracle. Because of Dolohov's unknown curse, among other things, her cycles had been messed up, requiring an extensive list of potions that Severus continued to provide her even though she was no longer a student. It was one of the few areas of contention that had existed in her marriage—one that should have alerted her to what was coming, but she ignorantly chose to ignore.

Ron had always wanted a large family, much like his own. He saw himself surrounded by many children, so when Hermione what the Healers had told her about Dolohov's curse, Ron had blasted apart their couch. He had been furious, but once he calmed down, he promised Hermione that they would make it work—that he would learn to be happy just the two of them if that's what it meant. But as the years went by, and his siblings began to have children, Ron's desire to have his own family became the one thing they could never talk about. Communication had been the true downfall of her marriage.

Hermione didn't raise her head until she heard Neville speak in soft tones to someone else. "You know I don't know the current one, but as it's not term, and I'm an ex-student here for the party, I'm sure you can make an exception."

She heard a loud _hmph_ before Neville continued, "If I'm not mistaken there is quite a few of your old students down by the Room of Requirement for the Reunion and you might be able to glean some gossip and updates about their lives if you hurry over."

Looking around, Hermione suddenly realised where they were, and as she heard the creaking of heavy hinges, Neville started walking again. He didn't set her down, even as her eyes registered the Gryffindor Common Room. No, he continued to carry her all the way up the boy's staircase and up to the last dormitory. When he finally put both of his arms on her back, he slowly sat her down on the edge of one of the old four-poster beds.

"Are you ok?" Neville sat down across from her, close enough that their legs brushed. He laid his hand over hers and stared at her with obvious concern in his eyes.

Hermione tried to nod, but even that felt like a lie, so mid-nod she stopped and shook her head. "No, I'm not, but I really don't want to get into it tonight."

Neville nodded, "Fair enough. I think it's time we have a drink, though." From the inner pocket of his jacket, he slipped out a miniature bottle of firewhisky which grew to its normal size with a quick word from Neville. His eyes scanned the room and landed on two books laying on a shelf across the room. With a summoning charm, he laid them in front of him, and transfigured both into crystal glasses, pouring two drinks from the aged firewhisky.

Hermione took a long swill from her glass, enjoying the burn it made as it went down her throat. The heat grounded her again and gave her more control over her emotions. Staring at the amber liquid, she tried not to think about the couple she just saw, instead deciding to focus on the man in front of her. "Neville, when did you get so strong and so, uhm, self-assured?"

His laughter echoed in the dormitory, as he unbuttoned the button on his jacket and removed it, laying it on the bed next to them. Revealing a true muggle tux, complete with vest and white button-up shirt, he cut an impressive figure, and Hermione's heart sped up at the sight. "Self-assured, well, I think the Battle honestly. Standing up to Voldemort, deciding that this fight was worth more than anything they could do to me, well it gives you perspective. I didn't need to hide behind what my families expectations were anymore. I could be every ounce the son my parents would have raised, brave and confident. Being strong just came with being an Auror, and living in the field, I think. When you're on assignment, on foreign soil, and you're staked out in a house for days without being able to leave, reading the same book gets old, so you keep your mind sharp by moving."

Hermione drained the firewhisky from the crystal glass before reaching toward the nightstand to grab the bottle. She refilled both of their glasses, allowing the silence to permeate the room while they both starred around the old dormitory. If she remembered correctly, which she was sure she did, they were currently sitting on top of Neville's old bed, but it was amazing how similar the dormitories of the boys and girls were, the only real change being the number of beds.

"I doubt anyone gets to come back to Hogwarts and just sit in their old dormitories—I feel as though we've been given a special privilege to go back in time. Maybe even given the opportunity to redo some things we wished we had done back then." Neville's voice broke the minutes of silence, and Hermione saw his eyes dilate as they roamed over her body.

Hermione's body throbbed at the look in Neville's eyes so she took a drink from her glass, trying to focus her thoughts on her years at Hogwarts. She realised she had a deep yearning to be back here, where she was truly happy. "Don't you sometimes wish you could just come back?"

Neville's eyes left her to look around the room. "It's funny you say that. Yes, I've been wishing that for years now, but as me now. I don't really want to go back to the kid I was when I was here." He looked at her then and grinned widely. "But I am coming back; Headmaster Snape contacted me, to ask if I'd be interested in the position of Herbology Professor, and I accepted. I have to spend the next two months finalising paperwork with the Ministry, then I get to spend from the start of Winter term til the start of the next fall term, working under Professor Sprout."

Hermione's body moved before she could think, arms wrapping around him as she hugged him tightly. "Oh congratulations Neville, that is the _perfect_ job for you."

Neville wrapped his own arms around her, pulling her close. "Do you think so?"

Being so close to him stole the breath from her lungs, preventing her from answering immediately. Her flesh tingled where he touched her, and when he let her go, she could feel the heat pool in her core. She needed a long drink from her firewhisky before she could look him in the eyes again.

"Of course!" Hermione's heart hammered against her ribs, as the heat from her body singed her cheeks, in what she knew was an unmistakable blush. She hoped he would attribute it only to the liquor they were consuming.

She quickly attempted to change the subject, even from one as innocent as Neville's impending employment Smiling she asked, "How are your mum and dad doing?"

Neville's eyes fell away from hers, and he took a long drink from his glass, "Dad died last year, and mum, well, she's fading away. It was only a matter of time, really. They've been ghosts of who they were for almost three decades, you can only stay like that for so long."

Hermione set her glass down on the floor, and scooted forward, the skirt of her dress riding up her thighs, she placed her hand on his and squeezed. "I am so sorry Neville, I hadn't heard."

Neville shrugged but squeezed her hand in return. "It's alright, he wasn't in the best condition towards the end, so I'm just happy he's finally free of his suffering."

Her body reacted before her brain, _again_ , and for the second time, she moved without thought, throwing her arms around Neville, ignoring the heat that continued to pool deep in her belly, even at the innocent contact. She was pulled in even closer to him when his arms encircled her, holding her tightly to his chest. In that moment, she couldn't explain the subtle change that his movement had caused, but suddenly the hug had morphed into something more. Their mutual pain and liberal consumption of well-aged firewhisky was morphing the innocence of this moment into something more, and Hermione wasn't sure either of them were fully aware of exactly what that was.

Hermione could feel a tension growing between them, and as she smelled his unique scent again, she knew that she needed to look at him, to lean away from him to see what had changed between them. Unlocking her arms, she began to lean back, not quite making it away from his body, when his face turned toward hers and his lips pressed against her own. He moved against her, soft at first, as his hand moved up to cup her face. When his kiss grew into something more hungry, his tongue darted out and swiped her lower lip. A delicious move that caused her to open her mouth in a moan that he swallowed. As his lips continued to dance against her own, he wrapped his arms under her thighs and helped her straddle him, before he stood up, bringing her with him, and sat back down with his back against the headboard of the bed.

His lips moved away from her own, but continued to tease against her jawline as he murmured, "Can I have you, Hermione, can I finally have you?"

Hermione couldn't utter any sounds other than the moan that escaped her lips at his words. She nodded her head vigorously and allowed herself to get lost in the touch and soothing kisses from her first friend at Hogwarts.

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 _To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: I'm sorry that updates are running so far behind, life is just a lot right now. I appreciate your patience with this and all of my stories. Soon I'll get back to writing more frequently.  
**

 **Huge thanks to lucefray27 for her epic edit skills, and also to kanewolfe and gidgetmalfoy for reading this over and making sure the parts that I was fuzzy on worked.**

 **As always I would love your kind words if you love this chapter.**

 **WARNING: Smut/lemons ahead. That's basically all for this chapter too ;)**

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Hermione let out a squeak as Neville's hand ran up her waist, moving toward her chest. She pulled her lips from his long enough to utter, "Sorry, I'm ticklish."

Neville chuckled softly before he captured her lips with his again, his other hand weaving into her formal updo, pulling her closer. While their tongues danced together, Neville bypassed her ticklish stomach in favour of cupping her breast through her long, black dress. Hermione moaned as he began to massage her, bringing her nipples to hard peaks and making her release noises she was sure she had never made before.

Hermione, so lost in the feel of his lips against her own, his hand teasing her deliciously, she failed to register his other hand beginning to pull her sleeves down, eventually dragging her leather jacket from her completely. With the top half of her chest now bereft of the jacket, and exposed to Neville's eyes, he moved his kisses down her jawline, continuing to head south. She leant back, pushing her breasts toward him, reaching around to pull at the zipper keeping her long black lace dress up; though it was strapless, it hugged her body all the way down to her hips.

Her dress began to fall as soon as she released the zipper. Her hands moved to unbutton the crisp white shirt Neville wore that was preventing her from her own exploration. With her dress now open, his hand left her curls to move down and begin removing it even further, exposing her hardened nipples to the cool air of the boy's dormitory. Hermione's jaw dropped involuntarily when his mouth latched onto her right peak, sucking roughly and swirling his tongue over it.

Between the alcohol and the delicious sensations Neville was stirring in her body, Hermione was having trouble focusing on the white buttons that made up his shirt. Pleasure grew in her body, and with it, the _need_ to expose him equally, so she could kiss her way down _his_ chest. Lifting her hand from the impossible buttons, she held it in front of him, and concentrated hard on the severing spell, closing her eyes and forcing her hazy mind to picture a shredded white shirt. She was pulled from her concentration when she heard a muffled grunt from her chest. Opening her eyes she looked down to see Neville's mouth still suckled onto her breast, but his forehead was wrinkled in what looked to be pain. She moved her eyes from his face to his chest and saw to her horror a light blood stain behind the white shirt she had successfully shredded.

In a voice that didn't fit the moment at all, Hermione squealed, "Neville! Good Godric, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you! Let me find my wand and heal you!" Hermione began to move off of him, but his chiselled arms encircled her, pulling her back to him.

Neville removed his mouth from around her nipple, long enough to utter, "I don't care, Hermione, I just want you." He said nothing else before he kissed around her other nipple, sucking it into his mouth in a tight pull of sensation. Hermione's mind was growing hazy again with the potent mixture of pleasure and aged firewhisky. With single-minded focus, she removed his vest and shredded white shirt, pleased when his hand only left her breast for the seconds it took to pull his shirt from his long arms, immediately returning it when he was free of the fabric.

Hermione moved, trying to get into a position that she could kiss down Neville's chest, but was prevented by a firm hand that forced her to stay in position so that he could continue to torture her nipples. She growled lightly, unhappy at having to keep her lips to herself, and through the haze decided to remove Neville from her breasts, while getting rid of the rest of her clothes.

She clambered off of his lap, her heels, while cushioned, provided unsteady support on the hardwood floor. She felt herself starting to go down when two strong hands wrapped themselves around her too-thin hips, steadying her. With a delicious thrill coursing through her blood, she slowly shimmied her dress the rest of the way down, until it puddled on the floor beneath her, all the while keeping her eyes locked on the blazing hazel gaze of her old classmate.

Next came her black lace knickers that had been charmed just hours prior—when she had unearthed them from the back of her knickers drawer—so that they would not fall the moment she began walking. She slowly brought them down to join her dress, in a teasingly drawn out motion. When she was finally devoid of clothes, save for her heels, Hermione reached for his trousers. Fumbling fingers and her drunken mind prevented her from being able to properly undo his belt, so when she began to growl at the troubling black leather strap, she was pleased to see his fingers join hers and deftly undo the belt buckle and the buttons to his trousers.

Hermione began to move backward, intent on helping him stand, and aiding him in the slow process of removing his clothes when his hands grabbed her once more, and, in a movement that would have made even the best Quidditch players jealous, she found her back pressed down on his old four-poster bed. Eyes wide, she watched as he repeated her performance, slowly removing his trousers to pool on the floor. His eyes sparkled with lust as he hooked his fingers into the crimson pants that were currently caging his erection.

She licked her lips as her body warmed and her quim leaked with arousal. Even with his erection hidden from her view, she knew this would be the largest she had ever taken, and her body hummed with anticipation at the mere thought of having him thrust inside of her.

Her thoughts stopped cold when he began to drag his pants down his hips. Her breath caught in her lungs when he finally freed his large member, and when it bounced up briefly, her eyes widened in lust.

Hermione moved, unable to stop herself as she reached for it, starting to slide off the bed. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, or if Neville was using some form of magic, but just when she thought she should be reaching the floor on her knees, she found herself back up on the bed, her head on his old pillow, and his pants puddled at the floor with her dress and his trousers.

"Hermione, may I taste you?" Neville asked, his voice low and husky.

She couldn't manage anything but a nod as her core throbbed, tightening in anticipation. Her eyes were locked on him as he sunk to his knees before the edge of the bed. He grasped her hips again, this time moving her to the edge of the bed, with her arse hanging off just slightly. With one hand he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, while the other wrapped around her other leg, hooked over her hip, and spread her lips to his view.

She wasn't sure if she had imagined it or not, but she thought she saw his pupils widen and his nostrils flare as his eyes drank in the sight of her. She registered the movement of his lips before she heard what he was saying.

"-this for years, I cannot wait to feast on you."* His words stopped when he moved forward and latched his mouth to her sensitive little bead, pulling at it gently. His arm wrapped around her hips, forcing her to stay right where he wanted her. Hermione nearly jumped off the bed when she felt his other hand slide up her body and latch onto her nipple again. He pulled it and tweaked it until she was squirming in place, her hands reaching out to tangle in his hair, pulling him as close as possible.

Just as she started bucking in rhythm to his pulls against her clit, her lips were parted even more, and his knuckle pushed against her entrance. Through the haze, she tried to figure out when his hand had left her breast, and her eyes travelled down when she realised that she still felt the tugging sensation on her nipple. Her eyes widened when she saw the peaks of her breasts being pressed and pulled and tugged; it felt as good as it had when his hand was on her, and her eyes trailed down to see him, his eyebrow raised in what she could only determine was a bit of arrogance.

Hermione's thoughts on how her nipple was being stimulated were interrupted when his tongue left her clit and pushed against her entrance, drinking her in before he licked from her tight back hole all the way up to her centre of pleasure before beginning the torturous pulling and sucking again. His fingers were now slowly pushing there way inside her core, and all thought left her as she began to float.

She felt her insides gush and her body warm, and all she could focus on was the enticing pull, tug, and suck on her clit and her nipple. Her fingers tightened in Neville's hair as she felt his two fingers curl inside of her and begin the delicious pattern against her inner walls. It was when one of his fingers pressed against her back entrance that her world exploded. With her eyes closed, she could see flashing lights behind her eyelids, hear her strong pulse in her ears, and feel the rush of heat flood her body. She was combusting into a million pieces, but somehow Neville's strong hand around her body kept her grounded, even as she felt her magic surge and her body begin to rise off the bed. His tongue and fingers kept up a slow rhythm as she recovered from the mind shattering orgasm that had just rocked through her.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes and found his hazel ones locked onto her, a smug smile playing on his lips even as he continued to pull her clit. When he sucked her in again with a strong, unexpected force, her core jumped and the heat surged once more. Her mouth opened, pleading, "No, no more. I can't, it's too much." Tears leaking slowly out of her eyes, she tried to pull his hair to bring him up to her.

Neville removed his fingers slowly and moved, leaning over her carefully, his erection rubbing against her overly sensitized core. He kissed her softly, reverently. Hermione could taste herself, first on his lips, and then his tongue as it slowly danced its way into her mouth. His arms wrapped under her, pulling her closer to him by her shoulders.

His lips began to move, each word punctuated by a soft kiss, "Did I hurt you? You're crying."

Hermione shook her head, unable to put into words what she was feeling at that moment; it had been both sobering and sensual, his body creating such a powerful reaction in her.

Neville didn't waste a moment, and as he continued to kiss his way down her face, planting soft kisses against her jaw. He grasped his erection and slowly rubbed it up and down her slit, coating the head with her juices. As he rubbed it against her clit, Hermione found the delicious pull began to tighten again inside of her, and she bucked her hips, begging for more.

With a smirk on his lips, Neville pushed the tip in, pushing in a few inches, only to pull back again. Hermione was beginning to thrash against the bed, as he teased her within an inch of her sanity, and when she growled, his smirk morphed into the most arrogant of smiles before he thrust forward, seating himself inside her fully.

She cried out, a mixture of shock and pleasure, with a slight twinge of pain. Hermione looked at his furrowed brows—he was waiting for her to begin moving again. She didn't wait long, her hips thrusting against him, trying to gather the friction again that would send her over the edge. When he moved, his pace was steady but teasing, as he thrust up, purposefully running the head against her g-spot.

Hermione moaned each time he rubbed against her there, and soon she wasn't able to keep quiet as the pleasure inside her grew. Her core began to tighten again as his thrusts became more forceful but still steady as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. With his hands on either side of her head, she moved over slightly until she began to kiss his well-muscled forearm. His head lowered to her breast again, his thrusts never interrupting as he began to suckle at her breast, nipping at her lightly.

As his thrusts picked up, so too did his mouth at her breast, until she was moving against him, trying to meet him thrust for thrust. She was so close when his lips left her nipple, his gaze locking on hers.

His bright hazel eyes, clouded with lust, widened slightly and she felt him enter her mind. She could feel him perusing first her own thoughts, hazy with pleasure and desire, a fierce need to climax again. He smiled smugly at her memory of seeing him for the first time tonight.

Her thoughts morphed into something she couldn't quite understand at first, but quickly realised were _Neville's_ memories, being shown to her. She saw herself, first year on the Hogwarts express, extending her hand, to shake his. Suddenly the memory morphed, and there she stood again, holding a wand in front of her eyes, looking down the tip of it. She felt the panic that clouded his mind, then stillness as her vision moved from the wand tip to starring up the ceiling of Gryffindor Tower. Again the memory changed, to her dancing with Viktor, focusing in on her body in the periwinkle dress, then shifting to his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock, the image of her soft dress and of the idea of sliding it off her body playing as he fisted himself harder and faster. The memory slid until he was climbing out of the portrait at the Hog's Head. His focus moved up and down her own body, a feeling of intense relief, love and protectiveness flooding his senses. Finally, the memory of his cock being pulled, over and over again, while his eyes were locked on the picture of her in her wedding dress, a cut-out from the front of a Daily Prophet, intense longing consuming him

Hermione gasped as Neville withdrew from her mind, leaving her with feelings of pleasure, lust and love, and he thrust into her harder. She could hear him now, his grunts and moans filling the air and mixing with her own, as they both thrust with no rhythm, each pulling from the other the pleasure they both so desperately longed for. Hermione felt the cord snap and the heat boil over as his lips crashed into hers, and his pace quickened, pulling her over the edge.

She bit at his lip, pulling it in between her teeth as she began to float, fading away from the earth as images of her over the years, and the realisation of what it all meant, mingled with the pleasure he was plucking from her body. A second wave crashed over her, faster than any of the others when Neville finally stilled inside her, giving her two last powerful thrusts as he lost himself in her. With his eyes closed, she took note of his long, thick eyelashes as she reached forward, pulling him down until he was laying on top of her, his body weight closing her in a protective cocoon. She felt overwhelmed by sleep, letting it take her, as she, for the first time in years, felt safe and protected.

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 _To be continued..._

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"Merlin you're even more perfect then I imagined. Hermione I have been dreaming of this for years, I cannot wait to feast on you."*


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n: Hello dear readers I hope you enjoy the fourth chapter of this story, you're really going to get to see the depths of Hermione and Neville. Chapter five is halfway done, and it's already super promising. I love seeing all the loyal Nevmione fans commenting, Nevmione wasn't my original pairing, but its become one of my favourite. I have another Nevmione, though it's a one-shot called Planting New Memories. If you want to check it out!**

 **Huge thanks as always to lucefray27 who worked on this and gives the best support and encouragement!**

 **Can't wait to see what you make of this chapter :D**

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Hermione's eyes slowly opened and gazed out the window of the dormitory, but it gave nothing away as far as the passage of time. As she started to turn, she registered the soft snores of someone right beside her. As strong arms encircled her, pulling her tight, the snores stopped, and were replaced with a soft groan.

"Stay here please, just for a few more minutes," came a low voice behind her.

A smile played at her lips as she felt the slight tenderness in her core, and the memories from her and Neville's wild pleasures came to mind.

"I'm not going anywhere, I was just going to turn toward you," Hermione whispered. She wasn't sure why, but she felt unwilling to break the quiet spell that hung over them.

His arms loosened and she was able to turn to face him His eyes were still closed, but he pulled her tight again once she was settled, and she cradled herself against his chest and upper arm, finding that she rather liked the feel of his arms wrapped around her.

As she lay there, memorising the lines of his face, Hermione found that she wasn't embarrassed as she supposed she might feel. Instead, she found herself craving more, suddenly imagining what it would be like to use her mouth on him. She wasn't sure what had come over her—had she just been so starved for affection over the last few months, or was this something she did truly want? As she stared into the face of her first friend at Hogwarts, she found her body begin to tingle with anticipation at the idea of doing it all over again. She suddenly felt alive again, like waking from a deep slumber, though she couldn't exactly pinpoint when she had stopped begin _alive_.

Her thoughts were interrupted when he leaned forward, not opening his eyes, and placed a soft kiss on first her nose, then her lips. "You know you're staring."

Hermione hummed her acknowledgement, "It has been a few years since I laid eyes on you, and I'm not used to _this_ Neville. This version is very, uh, stimulating." A blush crept onto her cheeks as she spoke out loud, realising too late that there was still enough alcohol left in her system to loosen her tongue.

Neville's lips lifted into a smirk, "I'm glad you like it so much. I'd do just about anything to earn your approval, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled. "Oh is that so?"

Neville opened one eye to peer at her. "Absolutely. I liked you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and then when you helped me find Trevor, well, consider me lovestruck."

Hermione's smile grew, "Is it bad if I admit that I wasn't just helping you find him for your benefit? I was terribly nervous and wanted desperately to make a friend."

Neville chuckled a low throaty sound that made Hermione smile, "You nervous, now that's hard to believe, though I'll admit to the same feeling. I was just lucky enough to lose him while sharing a compartment with the most brilliant witch of all time."

"Surely there are more brilliant witches than I."

He opened his eyes then, and his hazel eyes locked on hers as he turned her head, "Actually no, you're the most brilliant witch, and would almost best Dumbledore, if he weren't, you know, Dumbledore, and if you were as old as he."

Hermione rolled her eyes, unable to comprehend how anyone could think she was at any level similar to Albus Dumbledore but knew it would be a fruitless argument if she were reading Neville's eyes correctly. With carefully chosen moves, she lifted her leg up and over his and placed it on the other side of his hip, until she was straddling him. Her brown eyes took in the beautiful sight that was Neville Longbottom, a man who was much different from the boy she had known at Hogwarts. His hazel eyes twinkled at her, and a smile moved over his lips.

There in that smile was the boy she remembered, sweet, kind, and undeniably the most loyal of friends. She was sure in that moment that if she or any of her female classmates had been able to glimpse this future Neville, he would have surely received far more attention then he had. Her smirk grew as she ran her hands down his chest and abdomen, feeling the taut muscles beneath. He was hers at this moment; She enjoyed receiving all of his attention, and she had easily just enjoyed the best shag of her life with him as well.

After the last miserable year, she realised how much she had needed this. To be out of herself for a bit, and be able to enjoy the caresses and attention from the delicious piece of eye candy beneath her. She leaned down, and with teasing slowness, kissed his nose. From there she kissed a slow trail down his cheek, then kissed the corner of his mouth. She smirked when his lips attempted to entice her in, but she continued to kiss her way down his jaw.

"Hermione," he groaned, and she could feel his impatience grow as he encircled his arms around her shoulders, pulling her down until he could trail his kisses along her neck.

Hermione pulled away as his mouth latched onto the spot where her neck and her shoulder met. She didn't even attempt to stifle the moan that escaped her lips, as he pulled at the tender flesh. His arms moved up and down her shoulders in a gentle rhythm that reminded her of a massage.

Her thoughts were quickly moving to starting round two when he pulled away. His brows were knitted together, and his hands were feeling a spot on her on her upper back. Without a word, he moved quicker than she could contemplate, sitting up, moving her off his lap, turning her so he could gaze at her back.

"Hermione, why can I see almost every bone in your body? I can see your spine, your ribs and your shoulder blades. What is going on?" Neville's voice was low, but full of concern. Exactly what she had been avoiding for the last few months.

She didn't look at herself in the mirror anymore, for fear of what she would find. She knew going days without eating wasn't doing anything good to her once curvy figure. Her cheeks flamed as she pulled her arms across her chest, for the first time feeling the exposed and vulnerable to Neville's careful eyes.

Hermione's heart sped up as she gazed at the leather jacket on the floor; she hadn't even realised it had come off, or given a thought to what it would mean when it _did_ eventually come off. She had been so focused on Neville, and his body, and his lips, that any thought of the way _she_ looked had fled from her mind. Tears were beginning to form at the corners of her eyes when Neville again ran his fingers along the edge of her exposed shoulder blade.

She had to leave; she had to get away from his concern and worry, from his knitted eyebrows, from his attention to her body. She just needed away. Without much more thought she grabbed her wand that was on the table next to his old bed and began to run from the room. She muttered a hasty summoning charm as she went, her clothes flying at her.

She heard Neville moving, meaning to follow her, and she cast the strongest locking charm she could muster on the dormitory door, before placing a sticking charm as well on the handle, hoping that would be enough to keep him contained. She quickly pulled on her dress, using magic to help with the zipper before pulling the leather jacket around herself tightly, trying to hide the evidence of her sadness.

Hermione began to flee, taking the stairs back down to the Common Room and rushing through the portrait, thankful in that moment that the fat lady was still off seeing what gossip she could dig up. She began to think of the myriad of ways she could leave the castle without detection, but she still hadn't a clue what time it currently was. She pulled out her wand again, and laid it on the wood floors, casting the quick time spell. She watched as her wand spun, indicating that it was just before eleven.

She was desperately hoping Severus would be asleep because she knew if she tried to leave out the front doors, she would either run into someone she knew, or the dreaded press, and have to answer more questions then she wanted. She moved quickly, not quite breaking into a run, but desperately trying to put distance between her and the Gryffindor dormitory, incase _Auror_ Longbottom wasn't much troubled by her spells.

She reached the bottom of the Headmaster's study and muttered _Lilium bulbiferum_ before the stairs began to move. She jumped onto the bottom step, and took the stairs up, instead of waiting for them. Hermione burst through the office door and rushed the fireplace. Her hand began to close around the jar of floo powder when she felt the press of a wand at her back.

"Bloody hell, Granger what are you thinking coming in _without knocking_ to the rooms of an ex-spy and death eater! Do you wish to be stunned, or worse?" Severus' voice cut through the silence, and she could feel that he was more on her right-hand side.

She turned when the pressure of the wand left her back. "I'm sorry sir, I just really need to leave, please."

Severus' lip curled up, "I would ask what is wrong, but I don't want you to be under the delusion that I care. However I will ask, are you hurt?"

Hermione shook her head, "No sir, I'm fine. I just want to leave."

Snape nodded, taking a step back from her, his dark eyes locked on her face.

Without much thought, she grabbed the floo powder and stepped into the flames, allowing the green fire to pull her back to her flat. As her heeled feet hit the hardwood floor of her sitting room, she fell to her knees and retched right there on the carpet.

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Neville punched the dormitory door, furious at his failed attempts to open it. "Damn that witch!"

He had already spent the last five minutes cursing his idiocy, knowing he should have waited to ask her, but as soon as he felt her spine beneath his fingers, he couldn't contain his worry. He knew she would have already left the castle somehow, and while he was sure he could go to Harry and ask for the address to her flat, he also knew it would be highly suspicious to ask for it out of the blue like this. No, he would need to wait before reaching out to her again.

He sat on the edge of one of the beds and put his head in his hands. This night had gone so well, but now the whole experience was soured by his worry over the witch. He shook his head; he had been so looking forward to seeing Hermione again, his silly childish dreams of her were actually within his reach.

He hated being so romantic, but from the moment he had heard of her divorce from Ron, the flame that had been burning for her for years was reignited. Beyond all hope he wanted her, and he wasn't about to give up so easily. Standing he cast the strongest unlocking charm he knew and was rewarded when the lock clicked. He reached out, grasping the handle, only to find it stuck in position.

Neville shook his head, before muttering, "Brilliant, infuriating little witch." He reversed her sticking charm and opened the door.

"I'm not done with you yet, Hermione," he said, grabbing up his clothes and putting them on before heading out of the dormitory to leave the castle.

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 _To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n: Oh my dear readers, how I've missed you. It has been an incredibly long time, and while I wish I could promise I'm back, I just don't know. Life is well life right now, but the muse for this story is dancing around and wanting attention, and since my actual novel's muse isn't, I figure I'll put together some chapters as they come to me.**

 **I need to thank all of my writing team for everything they do for me, Lauren, Miranda, Kim, Emily, and Robyn. I couldn't do my writing without you. Please give lots of love to lucefray27 for her edit and cheerleader skills.**

 **Since it's been a bit, if you could let me know how this chapter does/feels, I'd appreciate it a lot. I felt my writing muscles stretch coming back to fanfic, so please be a little patient with me.**

 **As always I don't own any part of Harry Potter, and I make no money off this story, the only part of this I own is my spin on the wonderful characters that JK has brought us, and the quiet little plunny that was created.**

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 _'It was her chaos that made her beautiful.'  
-Atticus_

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It had been two days since Hermione had fled the boy's dormitory at Hogwarts. On Monday morning she left the safety of her home and headed into the Ministry extra early so that she wasn't alone with her thoughts about Saturday. She had arrived hours before anyone else, with plans to work _very_ late so that no one would see her leave, either. She had also deliberately hidden under many layers of clothing, not wanting to risk anyone else questioning her. Thankfully her schedule was already clear, and she had no appointments with anyone, so she was able to keep her door shut and locked, in the hopes that everyone would take the hint and leave her be.

The previous day had been one of the hardest since her divorce, as she moved between frustration with herself, anger at how the situation had ended, and annoying sexual arousal that hit her at the most random times. That night her sleep had been broken up between very real dreams of Neville and their encounter, and the memories he had shared with her. The longer she thought about those memories, the more she realised how blind she had been in school, and she had growled in frustration at the thought. She was supposedly the brightest witch of her age, the cleverest of Gryffindors, and yet she hadn't been able to see the trees for the forest.

Sighing she rested her head in her hands, staring down at the paperwork on her desk. Prior to Saturday night, and her depression over her divorce, her work was the single most frustrating thing in her life. She was making no headway when it came to laws for magical creatures. Whether it was the result of those who supported the old ways finding a target for their prejudices or because no one cared to make sure magical creatures were heard and represented, she wasn't sure. Either way, she felt every day that she was fighting a losing battle, an uphill climb with no resources and no end in sight.

A knock at her office door pulled her from her contemplation, and she jerked her head up from between her hands. _Shit_ , she thought. Not only had she accomplished very little for a Monday afternoon, but she also looked like hell, with dark purple bags under eyes and frumpy clothes to hide her slim figure, _and_ she had zero desire to see anyone.

The first _yes_ that left her lips was barely audible and raspy enough to make her sound like she had been smoking since she was a teenager. She cleared her throat and answered with a louder _yes_. Hermione was about to lift her wand to unlock the door when the lock clicked, and the door swung open.

"Don't think that a locked door is going to keep you from me again, Hermione," Neville said, his voice filling the small office, and causing goose pimples to erupt on her skin. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight that was Neville Longbottom today. He had donned a cream cable knit sweater and a pair of dark wash jeans which clung to him and outlined his toned figure underneath, leaving her with the memories of his body stripped of all clothes.

She tried to swallow past the sudden dryness that filled her mouth but was unsuccessful. Sounding like a croaking frog, she said, "Nev—uh—Auror Longbottom, what can I do for you today?"

Neville shut the door behind him and moved to the chair in front of her desk. He sat down, filling the small space of her office effortlessly. He looked straight at her and suddenly the shame of her abrupt departure from the Castle on Saturday night filled her entire body. She slid her eyes from his enticing frame to stare at the papers on her desk.

Hermione swallowed, twisting her hands together as she attempted to muster her courage from the recesses of her psyche. She was almost ready to look up at him and defend her decision when she realised that in addition to knowing about her change in appearance, he had also witnessed her cowardly departure—a huge difference to the girl who he'd fantasised about in school.

After a few minutes of silence, which only sought to grate her nerves, she finally chanced a glance at her old classmate, to find him studying her, his hazel eyes focused on her face. Unknowingly she bit down on her lower lip, before raising her eyes to him again, "Is there anything I can help you with, uh—Auror Longbottom?"

His lips parted, as he smiled widely at her, "Yes, in fact, you can. I would enjoy taking you out this evening for dinner, as long as you don't have any prior engagements."

"Wait—what? You want to go out with me? Even after I left and locked—" Hermione abruptly stopped talking, quite literally biting her tongue. In her nervousness, she wasn't remaining calm, and she tended to blurt out incredibly personal information when she was nervous.

Neville nodded, "I would love nothing more than to be able to take you out, and have a proper date with you."

She really couldn't believe that after locking him into the dormitory and leaving him so abruptly after they had been together that he would come search her out, let alone want to take her on a date. Her eyes rose, meeting his across the desk, and her mind flashed to that same look from those very eyes on Friday night when he had been over her, sharing his memories with her.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to agree, to say yes and just let herself go, but she stopped herself, her mind reacting far faster than her heart could. "Neville… I would love to go with you, but — "

"But nothing Hermione. If you want to go out with me, then what is the problem exactly? It can't be that you're worried about being with me, or that we don't have chemistry because, on both of those accounts, I was there on Friday." Neville said, his voice was firm but soft. Hermione knew he wasn't trying to talk over her, but instead, cut her off before she made too many excuses and talked herself out of it.

She bit down on her lip, pausing as she pulled at the minimal courage still left in her, "It's not either of those, and yes I would like to go out with you, but I feel like you don't understand just how complicated my life is. This year has been hard…" Her voice trailed off as she struggled to put into words just how hard of a time she had had since her divorce.

She had received owls from Pansy and Angelina over the weekend, asking how she was holding up after Ron's appearance at the Reunion She had written back assuring them that she hadn't spent much time in the Room of Requirement, opting for walking around the castle and that they shouldn't worry. However, all those letters had done was reinforce the divide she now had between herself and her friends, a divide compounded by the lies and mistruths she kept giving them.

And now Neville sat before her as the only person who knew how bad the year had been on her, at least physically. She was sure that no one, including him, would want to know about the emotional and mental stress that she had undergone. It was easier if he pulled away now. Then they could go back to just being friends who had one incredible night.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Hermione finished by saying, "This year has been so hard, and I'm still just not myself, so I'd be poor company all around."

Neville's eyes seemed to bore into her, understanding her, and she wondered for a moment if her friend had slipped into her mind. Hermione almost rolled her eyes at herself—she was definitely over sensitive and paranoid because as she tensed her mental muscles, nothing pushed back against her.

Hermione unconsciously pushed her chair back when Neville stood and walked around her desk. He in front of her and grasped her hands lightly in his own, bringing them to his lips with a soft kiss before resting them on her lap. Even with him on his knees, he was level with her and able to keep eye contact.

"Hermione, I'm going to bypass all convention and be honest with you. I showed you Friday how long I have wanted you, but let me tell you. I have liked you since the day we met on the Hogwarts Express. At first, you were just a good friend, especially to me. Even when Harry and Ron had your attention in first year, you were still friends with me when no one else was. I didn't truly _want_ you until fourth year, and even though you turned me down for the Yule ball, I still held out hope. That was until the War, when you disappeared, spending almost a year in hiding, working to bring down Voldemort. By the time you came back, I had missed my opportunity. You were with Ron. I may not have been there on your wedding day, but I had never seen you look so beautiful. I'm finally back in the country, and you're available again, and Hermione I'm not giving up that easy this time. I'm not going to sit back. You and I have something—a spark—I know you felt it, that's why you ran. Just give me a chance. I promise that no matter what you think will make me turn away from you, I'll be here for you." His words trailed off as leant forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest, and making her breath catch.

She was having a hard time taking deep breaths, and she fought the urge to sob loudly, curling instead against his chest. She didn't feel ready. Ready to date, ready to open herself up again, ready to get hurt again, because that was inevitably how it would end. Tears started to pour down her cheeks as her failings came to mind, giving way to noisy sobs when she realised that Neville was the last of the Longbottom line, and he would be responsible to carry on his line if the family tree was to grow past him. Just as the thought passed through her mind, so did the image of _this_ Neville surrounded by children, and her heart broke even more. He would be an incredible father, and she couldn't keep him from that possibility.

"Neville ….you don't understand ….there are things that can't be fixed with ….with time. Things that will turn you bitter like R-r-ron." Her voice cracked as new sobs moved through her. As she clung to him, it occurred to her just how much she really did want him, how the thoughts of him from over the weekend had excited her, how a part of her mind had truly hoped for something with him.

He began to smooth down her frizzy curls, gently rubbing her back as she cried freely, truly letting herself think and feel everything she had been trying in vain to push down for the last year. Her failure as a woman was even more painful when she recalled the growing belly of Parvati, who was now carrying Ron's baby. The baby she never gave him. She couldn't sentence Neville to the same inevitable heartbreak, but she would take this minute from him, this comfort that she found in his arms. She would take it because it's all that she could have.

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 _To be continued..._


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